


Sunflowers and Sugarcane

by Arrowbones



Series: Poisonously So [2]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Slow Burn, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 11:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19700431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrowbones/pseuds/Arrowbones
Summary: Takes place before Tord came to live with Paul and PatrykPaul is a retired frontline sniper who has quiet dreams of opening a bakery some day, Patryk is a soft spoken man with a heart of gold who loves to make all manners of baked sweets and Yuu is the one who owns the café where they meet. It's a setup for the perfect romance.Except, nothing really does go according to plan now does it?





	Sunflowers and Sugarcane

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody asked for this but I wanted to write it anyway! It ended up being a lot longer than the first fic was, that's on me lol
> 
> I've also come to the realization ive basically just been making a pacifist timeline where nothing really goes wrong aside from hanahaki lmao

The **Hanahaki** Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals

I.

The petals came on a Monday morning. The sound of birds beginning to sing the morning to life filtering through the half open window to his bedroom, sunlight filtering through the blinds. From the kitchen on its perch on the counter, a coffee maker bubbled to life as its morning timer beeped cheerfully.

From where Paul lay on his bed, tossing and turning, he was having a good dream. When he lurched awake, ripped from the dream too soon, it felt like the tranquility of the morning fell away. The first thing he became aware of was something was horribly wrong.

As his eyes flew open, the first thing he could feel was pain in his lungs as stars burst into his sight. His chest burned like a fire was spreading through it and his head felt stuffed with cotton, everything threatening to make him nauseous. His sleep addled brain fought to clear as the feelings grew worse, panic and anxiety bubbling up at this point. Something in his chest was making him have trouble breathing, as if it was blocking his airways, and he clawed weakly at the collar of his shirt, undoing the buttons trying to alleviate the pain and help him breathe.

Within seconds Paul was wide awake, lungs struggling to inhale and exhale as something large clumped and wet felt like it was lodged in them. With a panicked inhale he brought up a hand to his mouth and began to cough, tears threatening to spill over as the pain became blinding. In almost an instant, the coughs became excruciating when whatever it was in his chest became dislodged, turning it into a battle to get it out. A particularily hard cough had stars dancing behind his eyelids as something burst from his mouth.

As he brokenly wheezed, shock rippled through his body as he realized the pain was subsiding. It occured to him that he'd coughed something out, and he opened his eyes hesitantly. For a solid minute in his shocked state, Paul could only hold still as he gently brought his hand away from his mouth. His breath hitched as he finally saw what he'd coughed up and his brain kicked into overdrive as it hit him.

The hand that he'd been coughing into had a bunch of blindingly radiant sunflower petals.

Shaking slightly, he realized that he had barely caught most of them, more of them in his lap and scattered on his bed. The sunlight coming from the half closed blinds shone on them, giving them a violent contrast against the greyed tones of his bedsheets. His senses came back one by one, and shocks of anxiety and panic began to bubble up as his brain hit replay. You have Hanahaki, a voice whispered over and over, you have Hanahaki.

The smell began to hit him, the cloying sweetness filling his room. Each breath sent a holllow fire through his lungs and he grimaced and closed his eyes again as he felt a panic attack coming on. In an attempt to calm himself, he began to do breathing exercises. His fingers reflexively curled around what he could now identify as sunflower petals in his palm.

His chest heaved painfully as each exhale and inhale brought a miniscule wheeze and an underlying itch that refused to dissapear. He stayed like that for a good long while, until he was able to feel his rationality coming back and his heartbeat calm.

Paul knew the only way to contract the disease was through unrequited love that was also one of the only things he knew about the disease. He also didn't even think he'd ever wind up with it, but the beating of his traitorous heart said otherwise. Sighing deeply, he swung his legs out from under the covers and stuck them into his slippers. This was really the last thing he needed right now.

Plodding into the kitchen and making a beeline for the cupboard, he pulled out his favorite mug. He really should have invested in something larger, one cup of coffee was slowly turning into two in the mornings. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Paul picked up the coffee maker, hissing slightly as it burned his hand. He made a mental note to invest in a coffee machine that wasn't temperamental.

As he poured his coffee, it wasn't hard for him to think of who he was in love with. The only person who he could think of falling for this hard was his coworker, Patryk. There was no doubt, sunflowers being a stark representation of how he thought of the man in his mind. Loyal, kind and absolutely radiant, the flowers couldn't be anybody's other than his. A small flush dusted his cheeks pink as he thought on how much he cared for Patryk.

Taking out his sugar and creamer, Paul tried to ignore the persistent itch that only flared up at the mention of his unrequited love's name. Taking out a spoon he mixed sugar into his coffee, adding creamer and leaned back on the counter. Taking a sip, he stared vacantly out of the window, noting the weather. The sun was already bright as is it started to peak out from the horizon and despite the early hour, not a single cloud was in the sky.

The time on the coffee machine read 6:23 am and Paul groaned, not realizing he'd taken so long grounding himself. Muttering crossly, he went about making himself breakfast, mind drifting back to his coworker. Hanahaki was rare. It was rare to the point that the last recorded case that had lead to death had been almost 23 years ago.

Paul decided he didn't want to think about that now and shoved a croissant into his mouth, deciding he would have to eat something on his way, in case he was late.

Paul's coworker, Patryk, was a taller more serious person with kind blue eyes who smelled of vanilla and rich ground coffee beans from the small café they both worked at. He frequently pulled his hair into a messy ponytail or bun when working, but his bangs always escaped, framing his face and bringing out the shape of his jaw. More often than not, the kitchen could be filled with the sounds of Patryk humming as he baked in the early morning hours before opening. Paul had never mentioned this to anybody, but the humming had become a somewhat comfort to him in the mornings.

To Paul it was almost an impossible notion to not fall in love with him, Patyrk was the embodiment of elegance and understanding. Even though he was quite serious most of the time, his smile and his laugh could bring warmth on the coldest days. Whenever he worked the cashier, Patryk would always make sure the customers were happy and sent off with a smile. He brought a life to the café that nobody else other than him could bring and it showed in how much he loved everybody around him.

 _Almost_ everybody, the back of his mind whispered to him and Paul grunted, draining the last of his coffee faster than necessary, trying to force the voice away.

It was absolutely no secret to anybody who worked at the café that Patryk hated Paul.

Whenever the two were given shifts together alone, it was disasterous. It wasn't that the two caused chaos together, it was the fact that both couldn't exist in the same space without a civil war happening. Paul had come to the conclusion it stemmed from the horrendous way they had first met; a day Paul looked back on as the day he screwed up any chance of being friends, let alone persuing anything close to romance.

* * *

It had been his first day and he had been nothing but nerves. Baking had been one of his passions before he served in the war and his dream was to run a bakery of his own. He'd spent the night prior smoothing out his uniform, trimming his facial hair and wringing his hands. When the morning had come for him to actually head out, he had exhausted himself on worries, only getting a few hours of rest.

Upon arrival, his manager had let him into the café, a hefty Polish man with a large belly and a booming laugh by the name of Morten. He had offered Paul a coffee in a thick accent, introducing himself as the father of the owner, which had surprised him to a degree. They had exchanged pleasantries before Morten had started to tour him around the place, giving him a run down on his morning tasks. It had gone smoothly, Paul learning the basics and how everything worked as they made their way through the building. He was certain he could handle everything he'd seen, having baking and retail experience from jobs he'd worked at before his time in service. Morten had just begun the kitchen tour before they had been interupted a few moments later, the front door's bell ringing.

"I go check who that is," Morten mused warmly, "get comfortable with new surroundings, yes?" And with that he left Paul in the kitchen with the cooling pasteries, croissants and breads that sat on the kitchen islands, no doubt put there last night to cool. As he heard soft chattering from the front, Paul gently approached and apraised the care that went into each tray of baked goods before him. Each of them smelling wonderfully _delicious_ , the dough with a nearly perfect rise and shade of golden brown. Whoever had baked these had a talent for baking bread and buns, something he'd struggled to do the first few months of baking. Paul's passion for baking had been mostly in the artistic crafts, icing cupcakes and pastries with his grandpa and grandma as a child had sparked a passion in him.

So when Paul had noticed the beautiful 3 tiered wedding cake with intricate rosettes that sat on an island in the middle of the kitchen, a small little noise of delight escaped him. As he drew closer, he saw that while it had been baked beautifully, whoever had sculpted the fondant flowers hadn't done so correctly. Paul had carefully turned it, inspecting every single aspect of the decorative pieces. One of the icing rosettes had fallen apart and it had appeared the fondant had begun to give slight inbalance with the tiers, the carefully contructed cake beginning to fall under its own weight.

With careful hands, he had picked it up from the base, turning it and inspecting it slowly as he tried to figure out the proper way to fix it when the kitchen doors swung open loudly, startling him and diverting his focus. Paul felt his grip on the cake slip, and to his horror he watched it hit the side of the island before falling to the ground unceremoniously.

With a strangled noise of fear and surprise he turned around fast enough to see Morten pushing the swinging door of the kitchen open, a stranger beside him. As soon as they made eye contact, Paul saw tension slowly fill every line of the strangers body as whatever Morten had been about to say died out. Paul only had a second to scramble back against the counter before the stranger was marching over to inspect the mess, eyes blazing in anger as he realized nothing could be saved. Any apology Paul could think of died on his tongue as the other man whirled on him, undeniable controlled fury etched on his face.

As their eyes meet, Paul's breath hitches in his throat for an entirely different reason as he finds himself staring at what has to be the most attractively _furious_ man he's ever seen. His hair is up in a messy bun, he looks as if he hasn't had a full nights rest in ages but he is _gorgeous_ , the light from the window giving his tan skin a soft glow. Paul is startled out of his staring as the stranger finally clears his throat, not realizing he'd been a deer in headlights the entire time.

"Do you know how long it took me to finish decorating those rosettes and how _long_ I spent making the fondant on the cake you just destroyed." It was more of a statement than a question, the tone biting and eating at Paul's guilt. As he shook his head, anxiety swallowed up his ability to rationalize thought as fear took over. He found himself unable to think of a proper answer.

"It was falling, I saw it was off centre-I, the roses- I thought I could h-help fix them before it broke, I-..." Paul stammers and then quickly retreats as Patryck's face falls, hurt flashing underneath the anger in his eyes before he's gone, kitchen door swinging. The tension breaks and Paul collapses, panic rising in his chest as he buries his face in his hands, breathing becoming hysteric. What had he been thinking?

Morten had been off to the side this entire time, but as soon as Patryck had left, and the kitchen door stopped swinging, he had gently helped Paul up on his feet, handing him the coffee he had somehow forgotten about. "For first day, you sure know how to get things moving! That was Patryck, your coworker and new mentor. Unfortunately you'll have to both be working with each other so I hope this," Morten gestured to the mess on the floor and the faint angry muttering coming from the front, "doesn't complicate too many things, yes?"

Paul had nodded faintly.

* * *

  
Ever since then, no matter what he had done to ease the tension, to show signs of remorse and apology, he had been met with cold indifference, criticism and sharp barbs thrown in his direction. If he even showed signs of error, Patryck had been cruel whenever he'd pointed out mistakes but Paul had taken it all in stride, fixing what had been pointed out and saying nothing.

He didn't want to think about the effect it could have on this... new development and he prayed ferverently that any of the other people that worked at the café other than Patryck had morning shift with him. Knowing his luck, Patryck was probably scheduled to be on shift that morning. Great.

Scratching his scruff irritably, Paul thought for the hundreth time about shaving. He thought against it, a final sweep of his apartment to make sure everything was turned off and in order before Paul closed the front door behind him, lock mechanism clicking abnormally loud in the now empty apartment.

  
Paul decided he was lucky to live downtown, even if his apartment was a little steeply priced. The café he worked at was only a few blocks away, the distance let him walk every morning to work. Trees, cars and buildings passed him by slowly as he made his way over, hands in his pockets as the early morning sunrise peeked at him through the leaves. The cheerful red sign of the café came into sight and Paul dug around in his pocket for a moment before taking out a set of keys. Humming softly to himself he unlocked the door and pushed it inwards, bell ringing cheerfully before he closed it behind him, locking in case of an early customer before they were open.

"Good morning Paul, you look like shit." Yuu's singsong voice carried from over in the corner, mingling with the cheerful sound of the café's bell ringing. Yuu was seated over in a private booth where he sat with Morten, both of which who were enjoying cups of coffee.

Yuu was the owner of the shop, an eccentric young man with startling blue eyes and an unforgiving mess of blonde hair that always seemed to stick up. He was one of Paul's best friends, the two were gossips and loved to rant to each other during lunch breaks. They'd first met when Paul had seen him chainsmoking out back and crying, which had sparked a mutual rant about parents between the both of them. Paul had found out later that Yuu was the owner of the place later that day when Morten had come to pick him up.

Paul wasn't sure he wanted to tell Yuu about what happened just yet as he shuffles over to the coffee machine, brewing his own cup. He rationalized that he was still processing everything and Yuu asking unecessary questions didn't seem like it would help.

"I look like shit? You should get a mirror after you come back from your boyfriends place in the morning." Paul paused, raising an eyebrow at Yuu's slightly more disheveled appearance than usual, grinning. "I think there's a suitable one in thethe mens room."

"Riiiight, I'll be sure to check it out it later then," Yuu snorted, rolling his eyes before continuing, "in all seriousness, did you get sleep last night? You look a little sick."

"I thought you were my boss, not my mom."

Paul snorted in laughter as Yuu gave him a deadpan look over the rim of his coffee mug, something that had Morten also chuckling warmly. They dissolved into pleasant silence as Paul grabbed his apron off of the back hook, tying it on as he waited for his coffee to cool off enough to drink.

"Anybody know if Patryck's working today?" Paul asked as walked over to raise the blinds in the window, allowing more sunlight to come in, "I'm not exactly in the mood to work with him today."

At this, Morten grimaced and held a finger to his lips as he turned around, "Careful with how loud you are when talking about people already here, my friend."

Paul froze slightly, realizing now that the faint sound of humming and dishes clinking was coming from the back kitchens. He hadn't heard it right away when he first came in or when he'd been getting ready. Thankfully, he nodded his understanding back at Morten before going back behind the counter to grab his coffee and a muffin before going to sit with the others.

As he sat down, a hearty hand clapped down on his back and he let out a small grunt as his coffee nearly went spilling. Yuu grimaced as Morten let out a hearty chuckle, patting Paul on the shoulders and looking him over appraisingly. Paul didn't exactly care for how handsy Morten was on most days but he really didn't feel like being touched when the possibility of him coughing up petals was a very real thing that could happen.

"You do not look at good as you did when you first came to work for business here. Is something matter? Do you not eat?" Morten asked, hearty voice still as booming as normal. "You are still young! Take some buns, eat up good breakfast."

Paul couldn't reply because he wasn't about to tell Morten the reason he looked like shit was because he had Hanahaki. He was also sure a petal had just gotten dislodged and talking meant risking a chance of sunflowers making a startling appearance then and there.

He settled on just nibbling his muffin in response.

Snorting, Yuu took a sip of his coffee and saved Paul from having to respond further. "Dad, you really need to stop worrying about him so much, he's nearly my age and can take care of himself as much as I can take care of myself."

Morten only scoffed at this. "What's this? My son thinks he takes care of himself? With that many soda cans and instant noodles on his bedroom floor?"

Paul laughed behind his hand alongside Morten as Yuu's face went red.

After this, they'd departed. Yuu had mentioned they had an appointment with a wedding planner, as they were catering for the desserts. It was a big job for a local bakery like them and Morten wanted to make sure they would be able to finish a big enough order in time. Paul had wished them good luck and continued to set up for the morning, ears still tuned to the humming in the back. With Yuu and Morten gone, it meant that he was left to set up shop with Patryck. Alone.

He cursed the pattering in his chest at that prospect, gritting his teeth as another wave of irritation spread through his chest. The day hadn't started yet and he was already losing his composure, stressing over the day that loomed over his head. "Stressing" could have been an understatment, as the idea of Patryck coming out from the back at any moment was starting to make the itching worse and that was just the thought, let alone the real thing.

His feelings, thoughts and anxiety were starting to feel like too much. His insides started to churn as he tried to make himself busy with setting up the cash register and setting out the buns and pastries they were to sell that day. It didn't help, his traitorous heart threatened to beat out of his chest, ribcage feeling almost suffocating. He braced his arms against the counter and attempted to breathe as he felt another panic attack creeping back up on him.

He took in a long steadying breath that seared his chest as it slowly filled his lungs, and he let it out just as calmly. His brain felt fuzzy at the edges, like a blanket of static had just settled down over everything. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes as his shoulders began to shake and he mentally cursed himself. Shit, he really didn't want to deal with this right now.

The front of the store was way too public for him to calm down safely which left only one option; the back. Only delivery trucks were permitted back there and Paul occasionally when he needed a smoke break or whenever he needed a breather. This counted as one of those times, he rationalized as he dug around for his keys once more. He was going to go through the front, he didn't want to risk bumping into-

"...Oh, did Morten leave already? I wanted to ask about my hours for next month."

Paul froze what he was doing as everything halted for a moment, a shiver going up his back as he realized Patryck had left the kitchen. His hands began shaking and his brain wildly kicked into overdrive, trying to figure out what to do. He'd been so wrapped up in his own head he hadn't heard the doors open.

"Hey, you. Do you know when they'll be back or are you just gonna stand there in my way all morning?" Patryck sneered, annoyance leaking into his voice.

To Paul it sounded like he was miles away. There was a roaring in his ears and a cold sweat had broken out over his skin as his heart squeezed painfully. Just Patryck's voice enough to make heat bloom in his chest, insides feeing like they were tying each other in knots. He was about to apologize and get out of the way when horrifyingly, a cough started deep in his chest, making his blood run cold. There's no way he was going to let Patryck know he had Hanahaki. Ever.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Paul abruptly turned around and bolted through the kitchen, choking out a quick apology as he pushed past Patryck. He slammed the door open and stumbled into the back before leaning against the wall, desperately trying to stop himself from coughing. Each constriction from his diaphragm had tears welling up in his eyes. Paul could tell that the petals from this morning had nothing against what he was about to vomit up as he shakily fell to his knees and started hacking up more and more sunflower petals.

His eyes were shut tight against what he knew was a visual representation of his feelings for somebody he couldn't have. Bile rose to his throat as he kept coughing out petals, hoping to whatever deity out there that Patryck wouldn't come into the alleyway to check on him or chew him out. The petals piled up, one by one with every cough and heave, into his hand and his lap. They fell to the ground and flittered around him as he took his hand from his mouth, gasping harshly for air.

As the coughing subsided, Paul came to the realization that he was invariably fucked. He couldn't even keep it together near the other baker anymore, his affections and Patryck's animonsity throwing up a wall neither of them could break. He leaned against the building and wheezed brokenly, thoughts jumbled up and confused.

As he sat there, trying to control his breathing, Paul realized that this was probably the first time he'd felt alive since he'd come back from the frontlines. Every nerve felt like it was on fire, every sense was alighted and screaming but to him, it felt like something had been lifted from his shoulders.

He'd grabbed a petal from his lap dazedly, lifting it up to admire how the sunlight made it nearly radiant. _He wasn't in love_ , he tried to tell himself, _there was no way this was really happening_. _He was going to wake up in bed and this was all going to be some fever dream brought on by that somewhat stale plate of food he had last night._

The petals mocked him for hoping.


End file.
